Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
From: remus@netcom.com (Remus Shepherd)
Subject: Filming the Ark
Date: Sun, 5 Jun 1994 21:22:14 GMT

			   Filming the Ark
				  by
			    Remus Shepherd

	Harry Smith, producer, was tired of being the center of
attention. Activity on the pier milled around him, with every stage
hand and performer wanting his personal attention. Thankfully the
sailors left him alone - their job was to load cargo. And the security
guards didn't mind pushing people away when he asked them to. He had
a job to do.

	Ray, Harry's second-in-command, actually did most of the work.
"Okay, Harry, here's the papers on the livestock. Now, you told me not
to worry about the dogs... "

	Harry pointedly ignored three people trying to get his
attention. "The dogs are no trouble as long as we don't stop anywhere
- then customs gets involved. We're just going on a short tour, out to
international waters, where we can do as we please, then home again.
File those papers and help me check the manifest against the cargo."

	Ray opened his satchel, stuffed the papers inside, and pulled
out a thick folder. "Just about everyone we contracted is here, minus
a few no-shows." The small man had to run to keep up with Smith. "And
I've been getting calls all day from late applicants... " On cue,
Ray's cellular phone rang, and he stopped to answer.

	A burly stable hand took the opportunity to get Harry's
attention. "Mr. Smith, the goats have diarrhea. I think it's something
in their feed... "

	"Harry!" A scantily clad woman grabbed him from another
direction. "You've got my Llama penned up next to a bear cage! What
the hell are you thinking?"

	Harry knocked her hand away from his silk shirt. "You've got a
problem, Jucie? Talk to Christian, he's the stable manager - it's what
I pay him for."

	"What if that thing gets out? He's scaring the hell out of my
llama now - if he kills it, I'm left without an act!"

	"Jucie, that's bullshit. You've done half the animals on
board, and I've got film to prove it." Harry spun to the stable hand.
"Uh, Joe, isn't it? Joe, whose bear is that?"

	Joe blinked. "Yours, I think. Mr. Smith, the goats... "

	Ray covered the mouthpiece. "Harry, got an interesting one
here! This guy's got a female elephant, and says he can make it here
by three o-clock!"

	Harry held up his hands. "Waitaminute! Jucie, tell Christian
to move the bear - the llama needs that pen. Put him in someone's
shower for chrissake!" He turned to Ray and sighed. "Ray, ask him what
the hell he does with the elephant, anyway. And we can't make special
arrangements by three, if he needs any! Brush him off if you can."

	"Um, Mr. Smith... "

	Harry looked back at Joe. "All the fucking goats are sick?
What the hell can give a goat diarrhea?" He saw three more people
moving in to confront him, and began backing off. "Talk to Dr. Kent,
see if they'll be fit to perform. And see if anyone's been shanking
them off-stage!" Harry turned and headed for the gangplank. "Ray,
let's get the hell out of here."

	"Harry, the elephant guy says he's got an inflatable kayak,
and... "

	"Hang up on him, Ray."

	"Harry", someone called from outside, "you better come take
care of this." Out on the dock was a group of people standing,
watching some event in the center of the crowd. An occasional cheer
went up.

	Harry changed direction and stormed over to the group, pushing
people aside. A red haired lady was underneath a miniature horse,
plunging a flared, pink cock into her open mouth. He could swear she
was unhinging her jaw. The horse rolled its eyes and stamped its feet,
teased and ready to buck.

	"Okay, break it UP!" Harry shoved his way to the animal's
side. Groans of protest emerged from the crowd. "Look, this is legal
in Jersey, but in public it's still obscene. Get your asses arrested
on your OWN time, and not on MY set!"

	The spectators started moved away. Harry bent down and picked
the woman up. When she unhooked her mouth, thin cum spurted from the
horse's cock, splashing over his pressed pants.

	"Aw, shit." Harry shook his leg. "Lady, you've just been
fired. Get out of here."

	Redhead wiped her mouth. "Tell me you didn't enjoy it."

	"I didn't enjoy it. Damn, it's in my shoes!"

	The woman stepped towards him, grabbing him by the crotch,
quickly and firmly. She looked straight in his eyes, feeling him up.
Harry almost decked her.

	Puzzled, she stepped back. "You are a cold bastard, aren't
you?"

	Some security guards had arrived, and Harry turned to face
them. "If this horse is one of mine, get him aboard." He looked at the
woman. "I don't care what you do with Red. Just get her off my fucking
dock." Some guards moved to obey orders, while others firmly pushed
the remaining spectators away. Harry looked around as the crowd left,
making sure no one but his performers had witnessed the event.

	A tall young lad, wearing a leather jacket covered with `wolf'
buttons and a beat-up hat was watching from outside the fence. His
mustache twitched as he watched the events on the dock. Harry went
over to him. "Look, pal, nothing to see here."

	"What's going on here?" asked the stranger.

	Harry sighed and looked at his watch. "Hey, you look like a
nice kid. Go home and forget what you just saw, okay? You don't want
to get involved with these people." He waved over a security guard to
take care of the visitor, and ran up the gangplank.

	Once on the ship, Harry and Ray stopped to rest. Ray took out
a hip flask. "Just like the good old days, huh, Harry?"

	"Never again. Never anything this big. I don't care if it nets
me ten million. Never again am I gonna do this crap." He tried shaking
his leg dry once more.

	"Hey, the audience is out there - you said it yourself. Just
have to create more product."

	"Yeah, but I'm not sure the product works in big production.
Look at the mess we went through, just to make the filming legal.
We're on a fucking ark, for chrissake." Harry saw Christian, the
stable manager, round the corner. "Great. Ray, where's my cabin?"

	Ray gulped down his whiskey and frowned. "Uh, there's four
head cabins - pick one. Haven't really assigned them yet... "

	"Which ones are free? Which are you sleeping in? Hi, Chris."

	Ray winked. "I've got a bed tonight. And someone to share it
with. Want to come along? - you can work the camera." The little man
grinned.

	Harry clenched his fists. "Ray, you keep drinking, it'll kill
you. Or I will." He looked straight at Christian, who was standing
there with a strange look. "Yes, can I help you, or should I pay you
for looking stupid?"

	The manager straightened. "Fuck you, Harry. I don't take shit
from anyone who smells like a goddamn A.V." He smiled. "Insult contest
- score one for me. What the hell happened, Harry?"

	"It's a fucking zoo out there, and you're supposed to be in
charge. And that contest didn't count - what the hell's an A.V.
anyway?"

	Christian smiled again and moved to the gangplank. "I'll take
care of it, smearless leader. And the score is still Christian: ten
million, A.V. Smith: zip." He walked out and down to the pier.

	Harry looked at him leave. "Ray, why did I hire him in the
first place? And what the hell is an A.V.?"

	"Equine marital aid - sort of Trigger's best friend." Ray
chuckled, grinning. "He just called you a pussy, Harry. You want to
fire him now, or later?"

	Harry rubbed his eyes and started walking again. "Later.
First I change my shoes."

	They made it all of the way to the main staircase when one of
the casting directors found them. Harry tried to ignore the man, but
was stopped by a manuscript waving in his face.

	"Hey, Harry - read this story. I checked, and we have every
animal we need to stage it!"

	"Yeah, yeah. Who's the author? Do we have the rights?"

	"No, we don't need rights. This guy won't mind."

	Harry flipped through the pages, scanning the last one. "`...
in the flesh', huh? Cheeky bastard."

	"Hey, this guy's hot, Harry!"

	"Sure, sure." He tossed the papers back. "Look, it's all just
smut to me. You don't have a copyright, I can't use it. Don't need
lawsuits."

	"But there's no lawyers where this guy comes from, just
sheep!"

	Harry walked away. "And people to fleece `em, and people to
screw

	Harry changed and showered, and was dressed before he realized
the boat was moving. A fairly pleasant rocking motion, he noted. With
pleasure he congratulated himself for having no problems on his first
ocean voyage.

	By dinnertime he was in agony. With hunger came nausea, and by
the time he met Ray in the dining room he was positively green. He
swayed over to the table and sat down. Ray looked at him, a mixed
drink in his hand and a big grin on his face.

	"Not one word", Harry growled. He looked for a waiter. The
dining room was crowded with performers, made up and dressed up,
looking to boast about themselves or just get laid.

	Even Ray had on his best suit and most evil face. "May I
recommend the cheeseburger with avocado and bacon? It comes with a
nice, greasy sauce. Strange shade of green, though."

	"Shut up, you little bastard." No waiter was in sight, and so
he sipped from his water glass. Across the room entered a young blond
girl, with a plain face and simple beach clothes. She looked around
timidly, obviously without a friend in the room, and too bashful to
make any.

	Something about her face or her stance made Harry curious.
"Ray, who is that?"

	Ray looked up from his drink. "Hmmn. One of the performers, I
think. Stage name Princess. Don't know her real name. Dog fucker."

	Harry watched the girl shyly look for a table. "She doesn't
seem the type. For any of this."

	"Ah, I'm sure she's as evil as the rest of us." He cracked a
smile. "Call her over, Harry, she might be good for you."

	Harry winced. "And cracking your fucking skull might be good
for you." He waved the girl over. She saw him and looked around her to
see who he was waving at. He pointed and mouthed, Yes, You! Puzzled,
she walked over and sat down.

	As she came closer, Harry saw that she was wearing no makeup
at all. She stood next to him, curious and unsure. "Princess, isn't
it? Sit down - you look like you need a table mate." Harry gestured
towards a chair.

	Princess sat down. "You're mister Smith, right? The Producer?"

	Harry gave a little bow. Ray grinned. "Don't worry, darling,
he doesn't use a casting couch. Or stable, for that matter."

	Harry gave Ray a serious look. "Ignore my sotted friend here.
I was just noticing - you don't look like you're trolling for a warm
body tonight. Most everyone here is."

	Princess blushed and looked down. "I'm not very interested,
thank you."

	The producer was even more intrigued by her shyness. Actors
are rarely shy - or as innocent as this girl. "Look, how long have you
been doing this? Why are you here?"

	She looked straight at him. "All my life. Because I want to
be. Any other questions?"

	"Well, if you're in trouble or anything, let me know, and I
can help. Or if you really want to go through with it, look through
the kennels, I can cast you opposite anything you want... "

	Princess stood up, insulted. "I brought my own `actor', thank
you. He's staying in my cabin. And I'm here because I wanted to be.
It's just not what I expected, that's all." She then walked, without
looking back, out of the dining room.

	Harry and Ray looked at each other. Ray smirked. "I think we
just met the big `Z', Harry."

	Harry nodded. "Zoophile. Had to be one aboard." He sighed. "I
really prefer the dog-fuckers. Professionals, just want their money.
And they don't care if you send the dog to the pound the next day -
just as long as they're paid."

	"Yeah, she's probably upset to be among all these beasties.
Tough luck."

	Harry looked out the doorway. "Hope she's all right." Ray
looked at him slyly. "Hope she can perform", Harry amended.

	"Uh, huh." Ray took another drink.

	That night, Harry took Dramamine and went to bed early,
intending to go over the scripts for filming tomorrow. Being on the
topmost deck, his cabin was quieter than most; but even so, sounds
drifted up from the lower decks. Sounds that he could not all
identify. Something like a human being screamed in orgasm every ten
minutes, in one part of the ship or another. He heard the barking of
dogs and neighing of horses almost constantly. A steady thumping came
from the cabin below him, continuing for almost two hours before he
decided to walk the ship and exhaust himself to sleep.

	He was in the portside stable when he found Ray, swaying back
and forth. The man seemed to be walking aimlessly, but smiled when he
saw Harry. "Hey, hoped I'd find you. What you doing `round here?"

	Harry pretended to examine the makeshift stable. "Just
checking things. Ray, I thought you had a bed tonight. Change her
mind?"

	"He changed his mind, yes. Got a better offer from someone
with a pet. I don't get into that stuff, you know."

	"Yeah, I know. Well, to each his own." He continued walking
along the stalls. "I just couldn't sleep with all of this racket -
it's ridiculous! I'm surprised no one's jumped overboard to screw
dolphins yet."

	"Heh, heh. Actually, I heard some people talking about it."

	"I'll tell the captain to throw garbage instead of life
preservers. Why aren't you out looking?"

	Ray waved his arms and staggered a bit. "Maybe I was hoping
you'd change your sexual preference? Naah... you like being chaste."
He winked and grinned madly.

	Harry tightened his jaw. "Ray, you're drunk. Go sleep it off,
and try again tomorrow. Somewhere else."

	The pair stopped at a pig stall to look inside. The pig was
rocking back and forth, humping the mud provided, obviously frustrated
and over- excited. Ray watched for a second. "Geez, Harry. What did
they do to this guy, to get him like this?"

	Harry looked away. "Nothing. We interview the animals, too,
you know. They aren't willing, they don't make the cut."

	Ray leaned against the stall. "Makes you a bit envious, I
bet."

	"What?"

	Ray smiled broadly. "I know your secret, Harry. You and I got
smashed together that night, remember? Right after that donkey lady
tried to pin the tail on you. You told me... "

	"Watch it, Ray." Harry clenched his fist.

	"... you haven't gotten it up for years. I bet you don't even
remember how it feels."

	Harry's fist said hello to Ray's smile, and the small man fell
backwards. After a quick check, Harry lifted the unconscious man and
dumped him into the pig pen on his belly. Mr. Pig joyfully climbed on
top of Ray, humping merrily.

	"Take it easy, stud. You've got a show to do in the morning."
Harry called back as he left. "And be careful! Polyester can leave a
nasty rug burn!"

	Harry slept poorly, and got up late. The cameraman and
directors can handle it for a while, he thought. When he finally made
his way to the studio in the cargo hold, he had lost track of the
time, and the script schedule. When he entered, he blinked twice at
the figures on the stage. A large dog was screwing a small goat,
mounted and thrusting in earnest, with the firm help of a few naked
women.

	Harry rolled his eyes and sat in the chair marked `Producer'.
Noting that Ray was not there, he turned to the cameraman. "Bill, wake
me when this is over. You know the schedule - just follow it." Bill
nodded, and went back to his viewfinder.

	When, several `acts' later Ray had still not appeared, Harry
called a stagehand over and whispered in his ear. "Tell Ray to get his
ass over here - he's got a job to do. I don't care how hung over he
is!" The aide hurried out the door - just as Princess entered.
Harry's eyes instantly went to her.

	Her plain clothes had been replaced by a cotton nightshirt,
hanging to her knees. Harry caught himself staring at the hem of her
shirt, certain that there was nothing underneath. Beside her loomed a
shaggy Newfoundland. The dog sat down without a word from the girl,
loyal and attentive.

	Princess looked around the room, no longer shy but determined,
and moved towards the stage. A clap on her thigh signaled the dog to
follow. She sat down on the stage bed, and began running her fingers
through the big dog's fur. Slowly and tenderly, without any regard for
her schedule, she scratched the Newfie's neck and shoulders.

	Something inside Harry told him that this scene would sell.
"Bill, turn on the camera."

	"Uh, Harry, she's not even naked yet... "

	"Do it." Harry leaned forward, interested in how this innocent
would perform.

	Princess and her dog ignored everyone in the studio, intent
upon each other. She scratched his sides, making him puff out his
chest and snuffle the bed beside her. Expertly, she stroked her
fingernails through the Newfie's tail and over his back, following the
flowing curves. A light hand traveled along his soft chest, gently
caressing the dog's black sheath. She continued to scratch innocently
and fondle seductively, until he turned to face her. His muzzle
explored the hem of her nightshirt - his huge brown eyes looked at her
questioningly.

	Harry held his breath as Princess pulled up her shirt. A plain
body, but a pretty one, revealed itself, and the big dog sniffed her
exposed flesh. She leaned forwards to let him reach her breasts, and
he slurped at them delicately. She smiled, and reached further beneath
him. The Newfie's thick fur hid most of the action along his belly.
Occasionally her hand, wrapped around a bulging sheath, pulsed into
view.

	The Newfoundland, bent almost double, tried to sniff closer to
Princess' groin. The angle proved to be wrong, and the big dog could
not move his muzzle into position without denying her access to his
belly. So he stepped back, disengaging from her - and then, wagging
his shaggy tail, headed nose first between her legs. Princess smiled,
and looked around at the assembled people.

	Most of the stage hands were busy, running in circles. The
scene director was chatting with another performer in a loose
negligee. Bill the cameraman had a magazine between his legs, and
looked up only seldomly to check focus.

	Harry watched, eyes locked on this girl. Princess made no
notice of his attention. The Newfoundland nuzzled her crotch, lapping
at her labia with his wide, wet tongue. She scratched behind his ears
and whispered encouragement. Needing none, the big dog continued
washing her sex in earnest. The flat tongue stroked her glans and she
shivered. The next few licks slid deeply into her, the dog slowing his
tempo as his mistress' hands tightened on his jowls, and her jaw
dropped into a smile.

	Harry could not believe she had just had an orgasm. Not a
single yell, or thrashing of her hair. Never before, not in front of
his camera... Actresses like that just didn't get the part. Yet he
found the change pleasing - incredibly so.

	Princess lifted her dog's head, and they stared into each
other's eyes for a second. Then, licking his chops, the Newfie placed
his front legs on her lap and moved towards her. She fell back,
pulling the furry monster over her torso. The dog's thick cock was
barely visible between the pair as he pressed himself into her.

	In the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Bill zooming into a
crotch- only shot. He spoke from the corner of his mouth, eyes
forward. "Bill, get a wide shot. Full view." Bill grumbled about
knowing how to shoot a scene, but complied.

	Doggie bucked and rocked, his nose pointed upwards, smiling
and panting with his thrusts. Only his balls, slapping between his
lover's thighs, could be seen now - his length was totally within her,
and his motions became faster and shallower as he was caught deep
within.

	Princess, bending her legs around the big dog, was trying to
pull him in deeper. She gripped his fur, straining, and smiled. The
Newfie panted out a few more powerful thrusts, and she arched her
back, pressing herself into his fur. Shortly, spent but locked within
her, Newfie started licking the sweat off her neck, as she caressed
him, eyes closed and smiling.

	Finally Harry was able to tear his eyes away. Fear hit him -
fear that everyone would see the way he was staring at the two lovers.
He carefully avoided staring, stood up with difficulty, and called
over another aide.

	"Look... find Ray. Tell him... tell him I'm sorry... he's got
the day off." Harry turned to the cameraman as the aide walked away.
"Bill, keep that camera rolling through the tie for me. Push the
schedule back if you have to. And... bring the tape to my cabin, when
you have a break, okay? Thanks, Bill." Bill shrugged and went back to
his reading.

	Harry walked, stiffly, from the set. Blushing, he made his way
to his cabin, confused about the scene he had just witnessed and his
reaction. But as he limped, painfully, towards his cabin, he did
manage to wonder when and why he had started wearing briefs...

Remus Shepherd (remus@netcom.com)